75 Ways To Annoy Voldemort
by Deadly Poppy
Summary: While Harry was off hunting Horcruxes, the Order has infiltrated the Death Eaters, by way of a fourteen year old girl, whose mission is to drive ol' Moldy Voldy insane. Will she succeed? Read and Review!
1. Prologue

Molly Weasley didn't like her.

Remus's theory was that Molly actually liked her, but refused to admit it because of how dead set against she was to her mission. Either way, Molly seemed to go out of her way to ignore her presence.

Aly, for her part, seemed to not care at all about Molly's ignoring her. She was much too busy charming the rest of the household and generally bringing up morale to worry about one person who didn't seem to like her.

Besides, Molly couldn't ignore her existence totally. She was still a mother, and with that came an unnaturally strong maternal instinct. She was often seen silently piling food onto Aly's plate, or changing her sheets.

Five days after her arrival, however, it was obvious that she was getting impatient.

"I've been packed and ready to go since I arrived!" she exclaimed one afternoon to no one in particular. "Dumbledore left me a mission, and I'm ready to go, so why am I still here!?"

Molly turned to face her, fury burning in her eyes. "You're much too young for this 'mission' in the first place! You should be at Hogwarts!"

"With the Carrows?" Aly laughed humorlessly. "Besides," she added dismissively, "I have more magical training that any seventh year at Hogwarts."

Molly's face hardened as she stared at the young girl. "You're fourteen," she whispered. "You have no idea what's at stake-"

But Aly interrupted her. "No idea!?" she exclaimed angrily. "I could die! I'm quite aware! There's a good chance I will! But I have no family to be tortured. No friends outside of the Order. I'm ideal for the job. No connection. No loose ends to cover, no ties to cut."

"You're fourteen," Molly repeated.

"I've made my decision," Aly told her. "All I want to know is when I'm leaving."

*********

Later that evening, Molly, Aly, Lupin, Kingsley, and Mr. Weasley met to discuss Aly's departure.

"You'll be leaving tonight," Kingsley said, his voice void of emotion. But everyone knew that even he'd become somewhat attached to the young girl.

"I'm all packed," she replied, her voice the same.

"She'll die," Mrs. Weasley whispered to no one in particular. That seemed all she was capable of saying.

"Dumbledore didn't seem to think so," Lupin replied. "Though for some reason no seems to be able to tell us of Dumbledore's plans for them," he added, obviously referring to Harry as well as Aly.

"I'M ready," Aly said. "I can do it. I'll apparate into the woods behind Malfoy's house, then go in from there. Dumbledore thought the direct approach would be best."

"He'll kill her on the spot," Molly said. "If Bellatrix doesn't do it first."

Aly just shook her head. "I can do this," she repeated.

*********

**Please review! The first chapter's pretty serious, but the rest are pretty funny! It's a real story though, with something of a plot line, though it doesn't show up until later in the story. Please read!**


	2. Chapter 1

Aly took a deep breath. She couldn't be scared. This was the number one thing Dumbledore had told her. She had accepted that very little of her mission made sense. She was simply to carry out Dumbledore's orders. Follow the list, to the letter. That was all.

She walked swiftly and purposefully toward Malfoy Manner. She knocked on the door nonstop in the rhythm of Row, Row, Row Your Boat until a very agitated Bellatrix answered, her voice dripping with contempt as she said, "_What?_"

"Take. Me. To. Your. Leader." Aly said in her best alien voice. Bellatrix looked affronted. She opened her mouth, then closed it, several times. Then she grabbed Aly's arm and dragged her upstairs. She was in.

"My Lord," she said. "I found _this_ outside." Bellatrix thrust Aly toward him and she nearly fell on the floor, but caught herself in time.

"Who are you?" he asked in a bored tone.

"Your new assistant," she responded brightly. This was the moment. He would either kill her now, or he wouldn't. not that that didn't mean he wouldn't kill her later, but it was a start.

"Get out," he replied simply.

"Aw, come on Tommy-boy!" she pouted. "I came all this way!"

He looked appalled. "How dare-"

"I even brought you a scarf!" she cried indignantly, producing a heavy woolen puce garment with several holes, the words _The Man Who Let The Boy Live_ emblazoned on the front. "I even made it myself," she added, sounding quite proud of herself."

"_Get out_," he said again, with more force. "And I shall spare your life."

She gasped. "Would you just look at those cuticles!" she cried, grabbing his hand. "Honey, you need a manicure. And when was the last time you took a bath?"

"GET OUT!" he roared.

"Ah ah ah!" she told him. "Stress causes premature wrinkles. And by the looks of it, you have been _very_ stressed out. You should relax!"

"What do you want?" he asked wearily.

"I just want to help you," Aly replied easily. "But I _was_ wondering…Why don't _you_ have a cool scar?"

Voldemort's eyes glowed with contempt, and he lifted his wand, but Aly just said, "Wrinkles!" and he looked at her as if he were a small child and she were a toy that was broken, but whatever defect it had was somewhat amusing.

"You're so funny, Tommy!" she laughed gleefully. "I'm sure we'll be the best of friends in no time!" And then she set about his manicure.

*********

Late that night, eager to finish as many tasks as she could, she snuck out of her assigned room and knocked lightly on his door. When she heard movement within, she quickly ran from sight.

Voldemort growled, and slammed his door. Aly slowly crept back over and knocked again. The cycle repeated itself several times before he caught her, and threw her angrily back into her own room.

*********

_75. Do not EVER act in the slightest way intimidated by him._

_74. Be cheerful._

_73. Call him Tommy-boy._

_72. Knit him things. Really hideous things._

_71. Call him The-Man-Who-Let-the-Boy-Live._

_70. When he tries to send you away, ignore him and instead exclaim, "Ugh! These cuticles! You need a manicure sweetie. Bad."_

_69. Hint that stress causes premature wrinkles._

_68. Ask him when was the last time he took a bath._

_67. Ask him why he doesn't have a cool scar._

_66. Laugh at him._

_65. Play 'knock-&-run' at his bedchamber door late at night._


	3. Chapter 2

The next morning, Aly woke early, not having gotten much sleep, and went to explore the castle. In one room, she found some old Death Eater robes and masks.

The robe was about five sizes too big for her and the mask kept nearly falling off her fame. When Voldemort walked in, she was admiring herself the mirror.

"What are you doing?" he asked warily.

"Don't I look good?" she asked, raising one eyebrow as she continued to pose like a supermodel in front of the mirror.

"Take them off!" he commanded.

She looked at him as if he were an annoying piece of lint on the floor.

"Why do you care?" she asked. "You aren't even really _alive_!"

He looked angry, but she plowed on. "_Riddle_ me this, Moldy Voldy"-he looked shocked-"Do you really think the name Voldemort commands as much respect as…say…Dumbledore, or Potter?"

"You dare to-"

"Ah, ah, ah!" she cried. "Happy thoughts! Soothing words!"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "I-"

Suddenly, she slapped him. "Sorry, mosquito," she said, nowhere near convincingly.

He just glared at her. "I was saying-" he begand, but she slapped him again. "Mosquito."

"Such a shame they let the old punishments die," Aly said suddenly, to no one in particular. "Was a time detention found you hanging by your thumbs in the dungeon. God, I miss the screaming."

"_What_ are you _talking_ about?" Voldemort demanded.

"That's a quote by the brilliant Argus Filch!" Aly cried, sounding offended. "For _he_ will one day rule the wizarding world!"

Voldemort opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it and left the room.

*********

_64. Let him catch you trying on Death Eater robes._

_63. Remind him that he isn't even really alive. Constantly._

_62. Begin any question you ask him with 'Riddle me this!' Emphasis on Riddle._

_61. Call him Moldy Voldy._

_60. Wonder aloud whether the name Voldemort commands as much respect as, say, Potter or Dumbledore._

_59. Encourage him to think "happy thoughts."_

_58. Whack him in the arm and say 'mosquito' - every few minutes._

_57. Quote Argus Filch. Insist HE will one day rule the wizarding world._


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey Champ!" Aly called to Voldemort as they passed in the hall later. Voldemort looked weary.

"What did you call me?" he asked halfheartedly.

"Just a nickname, Tiger," she replied. "You can call me Coach if you like!"

Voldemort just sighed. "And why haven't I killed you yet?" he asked her.

She nodded. "I knew it. I knew you were mat at me. Alright, alright, I get it. But I'm about to make it up!" She presented him with a small foam filled ball. "Tah-dah!" she exclaimed.

He looked at it. "What is it?" he asked flatly.

"It's a stress ball!" she replied. "You've got to stop repressing your anger!"

Voldemort took the ball and squeezed it so hard it exploded.

"I see," Aly said knowingly. "But that wasn't your surprise!" she continued brightly. "Come in guys!"

And then, three people walked in. one of them was dressed in normal robes, one in healer robes, and one in muggle clothes.

"Who are _they_!" Voldemort demanded, suddenly angry.

"They're your new entourage!" Aly explained cheerfully. "They're going to help you. Oh…not you Charles…terribly sorry…"

"What?" Voldemort asked her tiredly.

"Well, Charles here's a hairdresser…forgot you were bald," she told him, sticking out her bottom lip as if pouting and patting his head.

"But here's Giselle!" she plowed on cheerfully. "She's your new yoga instructor! She thinks yoga could really help to cure your of your wicked ways, in accordance with the prophecy."

"And who are they?" Voldemort asked, gesturing to the other person, plus one more who'd just walked in.

"This is Sammy!" Aly told him. "He's a plastic surgeon, in accordance with the prophecy. He thinks using the same plastic surgeon as Michael Jackson was a bad choice, but he can have you all fixed up in no time, in accordance with the prophecy!"

"Why do you keep saying that!?" Voldemort demanded.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "In accordance with the prophecy."

Voldemort just exhaled deeply.

"And this is Leanne, she's a therapist in London, no explanation needed there," she added, nodding knowingly at him. "She's really great, in accordance with the prophecy. I have already deduced, using her book of course, that you are Mildly Depressed, and a bit of a Control Freak, with a few Anger Management Issues. She can help with that, though. In accordance with the prophecy."

"And him?" Voldemort asked finally, gesturing to the last guy.

"He's your new friend!" Aly finished happily. "In accordance with the prophecy. He's here to do stuff with you! In accordance with the prophecy. I mean, you haven't had the greatest taste in people. In accordance with the prophecy. Quirrell? Really?"

"Get these people out!" Voldemort told her. She stared at him blankly.

"Remove them at once," he tried again. A bit of drool escaped her mouth.

"NOW!" he thundered, and everyone in the room ran for their lives.

"Sheesh, Tommy," Aly complained. "You sure can clear a room! Since you won't accept help from your posse, will you at least dance with me?"

He stared at her blankly. "Come on, dancing the Polka is supposed to relieve stress!"

He started to leave, but Aly waved her wand and Polka music began to play. Voldemort was trapped.

*********

_56. Call him 'Champ' or 'Tiger.' Refer to yourself as 'Coach.'_

_55. Buy him a stress ball._

_54. Tell him to stop repressing his anger._

_53. Schedule him a him a haircut even though he's bald._

_52. Mock his baldness._

_51. Tell you think a yoga class could cure him of his wicked ways._

_50. Finish all your sentences with the words "in accordance with prophecy."_

_49. Tell him that getting the same plastic surgeon as Michael Jackson was definitely a bad idea._

_48. Tell him you know this great therapist in London…_

_47. Psychoanalyze him. Conclude that he is 'mildly depressed' and 'a bit of a control-freak" with 'some anger management issues.'_

_46. Mock his choice of Quirrell as a 'host.'_

_45. When he gives you an order, stare at him blankly and drool._

_43. Ask him to dance a polka with you._


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, Voldemort left his room to find Aly waiting for him right outside.

"My sir, you look particularly menacing today!" she exclaimed proudly, grinning at him. He sighed. This was going to be another long day.

"Let's go have breakfast!" she cried, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him into the kitchen. "Let's have eggs!" she waved her wand and two plates of eggs, bacon, and pancakes appeared on the table.

Voldemort stared at Aly as if she were some annoying fly that he kept swatting at, but couldn't kill.

"So, Tommy," she began. "As your person assistant, I need to know a few things about you. Have you ever had a girlfriend? _**EVER**_?"

Voldemort glared at her as she began drumming on the table with her fork and spoon. She moved quickly to her cup and plate, and withing moments had a full beat going, with her plate, cut table, lap, fork, and spoon.

After a moment, Voldemort couldn't take it any more. With one flick of his wand, the fork went flying quickly in one direction, the spoon in the other. Aly sat quietly for a moment.

It couldn't last, of course.

It started with a simple bubble in her chocolate milk, and ended with her putting on a puppet show using her bacon as people who were trying to escape the evil bog monster (the milk) and ended up being eaten by a gorgeous giant (Aly).

"So," she began happily, the incident already forgotten. "I have proclaimed toady, 'Aly and Vodly's day of Fun'!"

He groaned and attempted to leave, but she grabbed his arm and conjured up a Twister mat.

"Come on," she said temptingly. "You know you want to play Twister!"

"No, I don'-"

"ONE MILLION BOTTLES OF BUTERBEER ON THE WALL, ONE MILLION BOTTLES OF BUTTERBEER! TAKE ONE DOWN-"

"Fine!" he cried. "Fine! I'll play it with you! How do you play?"

She gasped. "You don't know!?" she asked icredulously.

Ten minutes later, Voldemort had his right foot on red, his left on green, his left hand on red, and his right hand on red. Aly had all four hands and feet on yellow.

Aly looked carefully at Voldemort. She simply stared at him, unblinkingly, for a moment. Suddenly, without warning, he tipped over, falling slowly and landing on the floor with a crash.

"I win!" Aly cried triumphantly. "Now we're dying Easter eggs!"

Voldemort had barely opened his mouth this time when she raised her eyebrows, silencing him immediately.

"I'm gonna make mine purple and green!" she shrieked, conjuring up the proper supplies. She grabbed Voldemort by the hand and pulled him to the kitchen table.

"I think I'll make mine-" Voldemort began, before a loud _Mvvvvvv_ in his face as Aly blew a Party Popper into his face.

As Voldemort glared, Aly smiled innocently.

"So what's with _Marvolo_?" Aly asked. "What is that, a laundry detergent?"

Clenching his fists, Voldemort continued dying his egg bright pink.

_Mvvvvvv_! Party Popper.

"They're beautiful!" Aly screeched, holding up her purple and green egg and Voldemort's dripping pink one. "Now, I shall teach you to STEEPLE YOUR FINGERS!"

Voldemort looked weary, but Aly quickly tackled him and started showing him how to steeple his fingers.

"Aha!" Aly cried forty-five minutes later. She leaned back in her chair as Voldemort demonstrated with pride how he could now steeple his fingers. "_Eeeeeee_xcel_eeeee_nt."

But of course it didn't last long. "Now we'll play Go Fish!" she cried, conjuring up a deck of cards and dealing. "Got any Queens?"

"No," Voldemort said coldly.

"Ah, ah, ah," Aly said. "I can tell you're lying. No Poker Face! How do you expect to rule the world with no _Poker Face_!? Hand 'em over!"

Voldemort sighed and handed over his Queen. "Delightful! Come on!"

"Where now?" Voldemort groaned, being dragged along by the wrist by Aly.

"It's raining!" she screamed. "It's soul cleansing! DANCE!"

And surprisingly, he did.

*********

"Look at you!" Aly cried. "You're shivering. Bedtime!"

Bellatrix sneered at her, but at this point Voldemort was beyond arguing. He just wanted this day to be over.

"Now, it's time for-"

"My Teddy!" Voldemort screamed. "Where is he!?"

Aly grinned evilly but stopped short when she saw the look on his face. She reached behind her back and pulled his Teddy out from thin air. Some lines you just don't cross.

"So, story time," Aly said slowly. Voldemort just rolled his eyes.

"So, this is the story of the Ugly Duckling-"

"No."

"There once was a-"

"No." A little louder.

"And he once-"

"_No._"

"So then-"

"No!"

"But her turned out to be…" Aly waited to be interrupted, but beamed when Voldemort turned out to already be asleep. Then she snickered as she pulled out her magic marker and drew Harry Potter glasses on him as he slept.

Slowly, she went into her room, only to apparate quickly into his room with a loud POP! and then back out. In and out, in and out, a loud POP, every time. Voldemort tried to grab her, but she was too quick for him. Eventually he stopped trying and went to sleep.

And now, as the finishing touches on the day, Aly put a plant on his bedside table, hanging up her "Good Behavior Chart" right above it. She stuck a gold star next to Wormtail's name and two under Snape's.

*********

"What is this!?" Voldemort cried in outrage when he woke up to see that bejeweled chart.

"it's a-" Aly began, but stopped mid-explanation. "You killed it!" she screeched with horror. "The plant! The plant that I went through all the trouble of conjuring up and you didn't even water it!"

And with that she ran screeching from the room.

*********

_42. Greet him in the mornings with a sarcastic 'My sir, you look particularly menacing today.'_

_41. Should you ever be eating with him - drum tunes with your cutlery, play with your food and blow bubbles in your chocolate milk._

_40. Ask him, 'Did you even HAVE a girlfriend? Like, ever?'_

_39. Get him to play 'Twister' with you._

_38.. Ask him to dye Easter eggs with you._

_37. Let off party-poppers in his face whenever the urge strikes you._

_36. Taunt him about his middle name. 'Marvolo? What's that - a washing detergent?'_

_35. Endeavour to teach him to steeple his fingers, lean back and say 'Eeeexcellent'._

_34. Play cards with him. Tell him he has no poker-face and how does he expect to rule supreme without one?_

_33. Make him dance in the rain with you and insist that this is to cleanse his soul._

_32. Hide his teddy bear. That ALWAYS makes him cry._

_31. Insist on reading him bedtime stories. Include 'The Ugly Duckling._

_30. Magic-marker Potter-style glasses on him while he sleeps._

_29. Apparate into and out of his room rapidly. Do this non-stop for an hour. *poof* there *poof* gone *poof* there..._

_28. Keep a "good behavior" chart and award gold stars._

_27. Get him a plant. Act mortally offended when he doesn't water it and it dies._


	6. Chapter 6

"Where are we going?" Aly asked, popping out from nowhere. Voldemort just didn't have the energy to tell her to go away. Nor did he have the stupidity to believe she would listen.

"Death Eater meeting," he answered warily.

"Ooh, goodie!" she cried. "I can go ahead and announce you!"

And with that she ran ahead of him, stopping in front of the door to walk in slowly and formally.

"Dun-dun-dun-dun-dundundun-dundundun!" she cried in a fake imitation of a trumpet. "Here ye! Here ye! The almighty Lord Moldy Voldy is here!" She did an equally fake drum roll and prepared for Voldy's entrance.

Bellatrix Lestrange looked affronted. Peter Pettigrew looked frightened. Lucius Malfoy looked vaguely disturbed, and Draco Malfoy looked downright terrified of the tiny, sprightly girl that stood before him.

When Voldemort walked exhaustedly into the room, Aly sprinkled him with a strange smelly mixture of rice and confetti. Voldemort choked on it.

"What was that for?" ha asked angrily.

"You're Grand Entrance," she informed him innocently, her smile as angelic as ever.

"Alright, down to business," Voldemort began. "You all-"

Lucius coughed, and Voldemort shot him an evil glare. He gulped. "Excuse me, sir," he began shakily. "But, that-" he pointed disgustedly at Aly, who was playing with a lock of her own hair. "-has painted our masks. Neon."

All the Death Eaters nodded in agreement, and masks were shown. They were, indeed, very brightly colored.

Voldemort turned to Aly, who was still oblivious to the conversation. "You!" he shouted. "Did you paint those masks?"

"Huh?" she replied, looking up. "Oh. Yeah! You're welcome."

Voldemort opened his mouth to shout some more, but Aly cut him off. "Also, is there any chance we could change the Dark Mark to something more socially acceptable? Because, really, the serpent really doesn't work."

Voldemort was about to say something, but instead he went on with the meeting like nothing was wrong.

"I have a plan," he said slowly and dramatically.

"Dun dun-dun dun dun-dun-dun!" Aly hummed, in a very action-movie rendition of Row, Row, Row Your Boat.

"As I was saying," Voldemort continued.

"Dun dun-dun dun dun-dun-dun!"

"I have a-"

"Dun dun-dun dun dun-dun-dun!"

"WHAT IS THAT INCESSANT HUMMING!?" Voldemort bellowed.

"Your new theme song your Evilness!" Aly replied, chipper as a cheerleader.

"Well I've had enough of it!"

"Whatever," Aly mumbled, examining her nails. "Still, I don't see why you want to harm a hair on the head of that adorable little boy."

Voldemort opened his mouth.

"And the old man? His beard's the size of a beehive! Your were scared of him?"

"I-" Voldemort began.

"And you can't fight babies either?"

"You-"

"And dear old Dumblydore is just the sweetest! Like someone's grandfather."

"You dare to-"

"In short," Aly concluded, "You're really just a big softie."

The room was silent. Aly, of course, didn't notice.

"Do not tempt me to kill you," Voldemort said menacingly.

Aly waggled her fingers at him. "Now, now, Tommy. Would Salazar approve of that?"

Voldemort didn't argue further. He simply went back to the meeting.

"Excuse me, sir?" Crabbe said meekly. "But is she chewing…_bubble gum_?"

Voldemort turned to see that Aly had, indeed, managed to get her hands on a huge wad o gum sometime in the last twenty seconds.

"Spit that out!" he commanded. She stared at him dumbly. "Now!"

_Pop! _Was Aly's reply. _Pop!Pop!Pop! Pop!Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!Pop! POP_! The last bubble exploded in a huge gooey mess into Bellatrix's hair. "Whoopsie-Dasies!" Aly laughed. "Don't worry, peanut butter should get that right out! _sometime next century_," she added under her breath.

The meeting plowed on.

Suddenly, "Muahahaha! I am Tommy, here me roar!" Aly cried squeakily. Voldemort ignored her.

"Well I'm Harry Potter, eleven-year-old boy! Fear me!" Back to Voldy's voice. "Grr." Back to Harry. "Rawr!"

Voldemort turned just in time to see a small, lifelike finger puppet of himself tackled by a tinier finger puppet of Harry Potter. He glared at Aly, who put them in her pockets sheepishly.

"You will be silent, or you will leave," he told her coldly.

She raised one eyebrow. "Seriously? Don't you think the whole evil-maniac-out-for-power-and-revenge thing is getting a bit old?"

"No," he said simply.

She snorted. "You're the boss, boss. It's your funeral anyway."

"Anyway," Voldemort said nasally. "We will surround the boy and his friends-"

Aly cleared her throat loudly. "*cough*not gonna work*cough* Ahem. Excuse me."

Bellatrix Lestrange slapped her upside the head.

"Hey!" Aly cried indignantly. "All I was doing was politely letting ol' Tommy here that, well, frankly, I've heard chunks of cheese come up with more cunning plans than that."

"As I was saying," Voldemort continued, choosing to ignore his antagonist. "We will surround them, thus taking them by surprise. Bella and Lucius will take the Weasley, Rudolphus and Crabbe will take the girl, and the boy will be left to me."

"Like taking candy from a baby!" Aly shouted triumphantly. Then she paused, looking pointedly at Voldemort. "Of course, *cough*_some of us_*cough* might find that harder than others*cough*."

"And so then, we will have them!" Voldemort concluded triumphantly.

Aly nodded thoughtfully. "Uh-huh," she said casually. "Yeah. Yeah. But do you think you could give me that in writing?"

Voldemort sighed, and with a flick of his wand, Aly was holding a written out version of his plan.

"Aha! Just as I thought!" Aly cried. "You've spelled dastardly wrong!" She made a note on the paper. "Ooh, and pickle. And Pesticide. Yep."

Snatching the paper from Aly, Voldemort announced that the meeting was over.

"Good!" Aly cried. "I've been waiting all day for this!" and without another word, she pulled out a banjo.

"Kumbayah, My Lord! Kumbayah!" she sang off-key. "Everybody! Kumbayah, my lord…"

Only Peter joined in. "Kumbayah, my Lord! Kum-" Upon seeing that he was alone in this endeavor, he stopped short.

"Enough frivolity!" Voldemort bellowed.

"Aww," Aly said sweetly, smiling proudly. "Look at him being all big and bad." She sniffled. "Taught him everything he knows! But enough nostalgia. Now, WE DANCE!"

And then she did the Funky Chicken.

"No, no, NO!" Voldemort roared. "Enough-" And then he was hit by a biscuit.

_*********_

_26. Anytime he enters any room, insist on entering first and announcing him grandly. Fake a trumpet noise and give him an equally fake drum roll._

_25. Shower him with confetti and rice, anytime you think he needs to make a 'grand entry.'_

_24. Paint all the Death Eater masks with bright colors and glitter._

_23. Ask why the Dark Mark couldn't look like something 'more socially acceptable?'_

_22. Write him a theme song. Start singing it whenever he is about to do or say something particularly clever and nasty._

_21. Ask him how he can possibly wish to harm a single hair on the head of 'that sweet, innocent, cute little boy.'_

_20. Ask him why he's afraid of a frail old man with a beard the size of a beehive and why he can't fight babies._

_19. Politely exclaim now and again that you don't know how he can be so afraid of dear old Dumblydore._

_18. Tell people he's 'really just a big softie.'_

_17. When he's done something particularly nasty - cross your arms, waggle a finger and say 'Now now, do you really think Salazar would have approved of that?'_

_16. Chew bubblegum all the time. Should he address you, your only response will be a series of huge bubbles in quick succession, the last of which will burst everywhere and make a mess._

_15. Get a pair of finger puppets closely resembling himself and Harry Potter. Re-enact all of Harry's victories over him in a spectacularly childish way. Be sure to give them both squeaky voices._

_14. Ask him if he's sure the whole evil-maniac-out-for-power-and-revenge thing isn't getting a bit old._

_13. Roll your eyes during plotting sessions and say things under your breath like 'You're the boss, boss' or 'It's your funeral.'_

_12. As he's plotting dark deeds, pretend to cough and mutter things like 'Not gonna work', or 'stupid.'_

_11. Insist that you have met chunks of cheese with more cunning plans than his._

_10. If you ever need to say 'Like taking candy from a baby', be sure to add 'Of course, SOME of us might find that harder than others.' Stare pointedly at him._

_9. Ask him to give you written summaries of his sinister plots for revenge and war. Correct his spelling._

_8. Drag out a banjo at Death Eater revels and start playing 'Kumbayah.'_

_7. Smile during Death Eater meetings and say you taught him everything he knows._

_6. Dance the Funky Chicken._

_5. Throw biscuits at him._


	7. Chapter 7

"Why are you following me?" Voldemort asked, ready for anything. Naturally, being ready for anything, he wasn't expecting nothing, and was stunned by Aly's intense silence.

"A-alright then," he said, shocked, continuing to walk. When he opened a door, she rushed to spray the doorknob with disinfectant.

He gave her a half-weary, half-quizzical look, but said nothing. As he walked, she sprayed the floor with an unending pray of disinfectant.

Just as Voldemort was wondering how she was unaffected by the constant disinfectant fumes, he heard a loud thump behind him, and turned to see Aly unconscious on the floor.

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_4. Follow a few paces behind him, spraying everything he touches with a can of disinfectant._


	8. Chapter 8

**I'm sorry! But this is the last chapter! I loved the reviews for this story, and I'll be sad to see it end! Nooo! Unfortunately, I still don't own HP, but I do own Aly! Yay!**

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"Today's the day!" Voldemort thundered, the words echoing through Malfoy Manor.

"Yes it is!" Aly sang happily. "And to commemorate this special occasion, I've made you cookies!"

She presented him with a huge plate filled with scar-shaped cookies.

"What are those?" he sneered, obviously feeling more malevolent than usual because of the special event he felt sure would soon be taking place.

She bit her lip. "The shape was unintentional," she insisted. "But hey, it's a little ironic, don't you think?"

He glared at her silently.

"And hey," she continued. "Maybe we can keep going with it! We'll make it opposite day! Here!" She waved her wand, and a bright orange lightning bolt scar was suddenly painted on Voldemort's head.

"Ta-dah!" she cried excitedly. "Now you're ready!"

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"Omigod!" Aly screeched. "Is that who I think it is!"

She was pointing off in the distance. They were now at Hogwarts.

"It is, it is!" she screeched. "It's HARRY POTTER! Maybe I can get his autograph!"

"Be gone with you!" Voldemort hissed. "You WILL NOT be here when he comes. LEAVE!"

Aly knew that she should go. It was Harry's job, and Harry's alone, to meet with the Dark Lord. She had no idea why he was coming to Voldemort like this, but she knew it must have something to do with Dumbledore. So she left silently.

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_3. Bake him scar shaped cookies, but insist it wasn't intentional._

_2. Insist that it's opposite day and paint a lightning bolt on his forehead._

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Aly saw everything, and her keen senses picked up everything. She knew Harry Wasn't dead, but she knew it was important to keep that a secret. So she followed, finally catching up to him.

"Hey, Tommy!" she exclaimed happily. "I see you killed Harry Potter. Too bad you didn't get any glory. I mean, if he didn't come waltzing up to you, he'd still be alive!"

"That's it!" Bellatrix screeched. "Avada Kedavra!"

Aly felt a sharp pain in her back for a quarter of a second. Then, the world went dark.

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_1. Be Harry Potter. Be alive._

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Aly was barely aware of being dead. She couldn't explain it if she tried. She didn't care to remember, because she was afraid if she did, there would be pain. It was a sort of hazy contentedness. Sickly sweet like too much honey on a peanut butter sandwich. She felt herself floating forward, toward the castle, but she was hardly conscious of anything.

She watched in quiet awe at the final battle. Good vs. Evil. Hallows vs. Horcruxes. Harry vs. Voldemort. And it barely even registered in her mind when Voldemort fell.

She stood there, hazy and misty, barely existing. People ran through her, hugging each other. She heard sobs and laughter, shrieks of pain and sighs of relief. Everything was a smile filled with tears. But nothing made any mark on her mind.

Until she saw someone coming towards her. They, too, were floating on that strange line on the edge of existence. It was then that she remembered she was dead. And it was then that she remembered that, even though she had never seen the person coming towards her, she knew who she was, and he was dead, too.

"You didn't kill me," she said to him. It seemed like a funny thing for a newly dead person to say.

"I couldn't," the young Tom Riddle told her. "I just couldn't." He had a softer voice as a teenager. A soft voice, but with deep, lurking undertones. But looking into his eyes, eyes that had become slits when he had grown older, Aly thought she understood.

"You've never had a friend, have you?" she asked him. He shook his head no. "And you've never had fun. You've never played Twister or painted Easter eggs. I said let's dance in the rain, and you did. Because no one's ever danced with you before."

Tom's eyes flickered strangely, and Aly thought she saw sadness there. True, deep misery that no human being should ever be forced to endure.

"It's okay," Aly said. "You're not Voldemort now. You're Tom Riddle. You can just be Tom, and I'll just be Aly, okay. And we'll be friends. Take my hand."

Aly held out a pale, translucent hand. "Come on," she said kindly. "Take it."

And he did.


End file.
